Minutes to Midnight
by Elarix
Summary: As New Year's Eve approaches, the now separated members of the Star Fox team must struggle with one question; If you only had moments to live... what would you do? Submission for SF: Holiday Contest. In the process of revision.
1. Regret

**Minutes to Midnight**

**Chapter 1: Regret**

* * *

**A/N: This story originally started out as a one-shot for Emile the Watcher's and K.S. Reynard's Holiday Contest, but now that the contest is over, I am able to do a lot more with the story. I'll add a third viewpoint from Slippy's perspective, as well as filling in the gaps of Fox and Katt's stories, and explaining the science behind everything. Also, I'm pulling a Peter Jackson and splitting up the story into five chapters.**

* * *

Fox McCloud slid to a stop next to an open doorway, breathing heavily from both physical exertion and adrenaline. Trying to silence his ragged breathing, he regulated his air intake to the bare minimum he needed and ignored his lungs telling him to breathe. He had just entered a seemingly abandoned warehouse in Syvarris city, Corneria, a few thousand miles east of Corneria City itself. The cold air of winter drifted in through a broken window on his left, causing his breath to turn to fog. A streetlamp outside illuminated a constellation of snow lazily drifting through the window, also casting a shadow behind Fox's crouched figure.

_This isn't right, _his consciousness nagged him, like a small child weakly but persistently tugging his mother's skirt. _This is wrong. _Looking all around him, the single fact that stood out to him was that he was completely alone. No Falco, no Slippy, no Krystal.

No team. No friends.

Alone.

This feeling of lonesomeness was one that he would have to conquer if he was to ever move on with his life. Fox no longer worked in a team. He worked by himself as a private operative. Despite every time he tried to convince himself that a private operative was no different than a mercenary team, he still could not get over this one fact. Three years on his own could never make him forget the fifteen years he spent with his friends. The wounds of the past were healed on the surface, but under his skin, they still ached.

It had started eight years ago, with a rock-slide that started an avalanche. One thing after another, and Fox could not believe the sudden turn in his life. Everything was going surprisingly well. After the Anglar blitz, the team had reformed; everyone returned from their scattered paths. Falco quit wandering around, Slippy put aside his work with his father and Space Dynamics, and Krystal had completely abandoned Starwolf. Though the last traces of Andross had been wiped away from the Lylat System forever, business had not slowed for the team. There were always the ruffians and ne'er-do-wells that needed cleaning up. Crime proceeded as normal, and justice proceeded as normal. And an ample amount of cash proceeded as normal into Star Fox's bank account. And to make the final piece of Fox's dream come true, Krystal had married him. They had even had a... a...

But everything had been perfect.

Except that they had everything to lose.

After six years of success, they once again found themselves running out of jobs. Determined not to make the same mistakes as before and let the team fall apart again, Fox did everything in his power to keep them together. When no more honest work came, he began accepting more unreputable jobs, of the kind that were not completely... legal. For a time, the strategy worked. Falco got his fill of excitement, Slippy received the income to keep their equipment in working order, and Krystal was able to be near the one she loved.

It was that last mission, three years ago, that caused everything to fall apart. It went completely wrong. Fox began to feel the tears welling up in his eyes. _Why had he brought him along? _That one mistake had cost Fox everything. With their... with _him_ gone, Krystal had left Fox. She would never forgive him. It was all his fault. And then, Fox became irritable, prey to extreme mood swings that drove even his two best friends away.

And now all that he had left was empty spaces.

Drying his eyes, he looked all around him, but he couldn't find anyone. His team should have been beside him. He reached down to nervously twist the gold ring that he had sworn to wear every moment of his life, a habit he had picked up, but his finger was bare. The ring was gone, tossed away years ago. His mind struggled to uncover any memories of his lost... son... but he couldn't find them. They had been erased, drowned, removed. And when he tried to feel anything for his vanished friends, he found only gaps in his heart. Nothing was left, only emptiness.

Because he had thrown it all away.

But now it was time to focus. The past was dead. He was in the present, and the present was all that existed. And presently, he had a mission.

Holding his breath completely now, Fox uneasily poked his head through the doorway and peered into the room. Five figures were seated around a cheap table, a single candle barely illuminating them. One was leaning over the table with his paws outstretched to absorb any heat he could from the miniscule flame. Another sipped from a small, thin bottle that sparkled green in the light of the candle. They talked in gruff, quiet voices that Fox couldn't make out. Though they seemed like normal citizens, Fox could tell from the black silhouettes of their weapons five animals were much more than that; they were his contacts.

Ducking back through the doorway, Fox let out his breath. It was time to report to his employer, a wealthy owl descended from a long line of bankers that stretched back to God knows when. It was not until that job three years ago that Fox found out who really controlled the world, and he didn't like it. But he was forced to live with it. Fox fiddled with his wrist comm for a moment before opening a communications line. The lofty yet calculated voice of his employer soon answered him. "Eldar Mothchild speaking. I assume you have found them?"

"Yes," Fox sighed, "I'm at the meeting point. But why all the secrecy? They clearly have the credits with them, so I could just pick up the case now."

Mothchild hesitated a moment. "I... had to tell you something... before you reached them."

Genuine confusion tinged Fox's voice. "What?"

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Fox guessed his employer was struggling with his answer.

"You must kill them. All."

Fox gasped, thoughts racing in his head. He started sweating so that his head was damp and his hands felt clammy holding the wrist comm. "That... that wasn't in the contract."

"It is now," came the impartial answer. "I see no compelling reasons for paying every one of them. This way I only have one to reward; you." As Fox was unresponsive, Mothchild continued, "You mustn't hesitate now. Failure will result in the immediate termination of our contract. Your reputation as a private operative is at stake here. You're an exceptional agent, McCloud. No one wants to see your career ruined by mere ethical concerns."

Again, Fox didn't answer. The conflicting feelings and voices in his mind had frozen him completely.

Mothchild's unforgiving voice would not let him think for a moment. "Well, McCloud, I can't wait forever. I need an answer now. _Will you comply?_"

Finally, Fox gritted his teeth and answered, "Alright. I'll do it."

Fox could clearly picture a satisfied grin twisting the owl's beak as Mothchild continued. "I knew you would get over it. Killing in cold blood is much more different than killing in war, I understand. But morals are only for the proletariat... _right_, Fox? This is an important step in your transcendence to the elite. Your friends, Lombardi and the rest of them, came over soon enough, though most of them did end up in..."

Fox was no longer paying attention to Mothchild's little monologue. He slowly lowered his wrist comm and turned it off, gut churning at what he was about to do. Mothchild was right. Fox had never killed anyone without provocation. In the past, his targets had always been enemy soldiers or criminals hiding from justice. Now there were no valid reasons for killing them. Not to mention the fact that he didn't have a glass windshield and hundreds of feet of open air separating him from his enemies. Now they were right in front of him. He would _see_ them die.

Once again, his breathing became ragged and uncontrolled. He stood up and drew his blaster, also making sure his knife was within easy reach in case close combat became necessary... and it would. Pressing himself against the side of the doorway, he listened for a few more seconds to his unsuspecting victims' conversation, raising his blaster to the side of his head. He felt his mind giving over to its animal instincts, the feral kind meant for survival. His heart beat raced to speeds he had only felt in battle, flying his arwing with his teammates alongside him.

The empty spaces hurt.

Closing his eyes, he let a flood of memories assault his mind, of colors and feelings and voices, and he channeled them into his veins. His eyes snapped open and he spun around the corner into the room, his adrenaline exploding in pent up energy.

* * *

Stepping out of a corner coffee shop, Katt Monroe zipped up her leather jacket and shoved her paws into her pockets, protecting herself from the biting cold. The shop was an expensive one, not one she could fit into her unpredictable budget, but she thought _Heck with it, it__'__s __N__ew __Y__ear's, I might as well treat myself once._

Turning down the left street, she melded right into the perpetual river of civilians that flowed through Corneria City, fading into the rest of the thousands of animals going about their daily lives. On a personal level, each animal was unique. As a whole, they were all the same.

Head down, watching the shimmering wet pavement slip by beneath her feet, she began the modest trek back to her apartment, which was located only a few blocks to the west of where she was now. The sun was slipping below the horizon, drowning in the vast expanse of rolling mountains that skirted the west side of Corneria City. The black silhouettes of the skyscrapers stabbed at the sky, fading away from orange to shadow. To Katt, it seemed like the light was finally giving into the darkness. Turning her attention back to her feet, hiding her face from the rest of the uncaring world, she watched the pavement slide by like black sludge, typical of the modern city –

Katt shook her head to reorient herself.. Drowning sun? Stabbing skyscrapers? Man, was she in a dark mood. But who could blame her? She had fallen prey to a series of unfortunate events to rival the longest domino line in the Zoness Book of Universal Records. After the team fell apart, one by one, she tried to get back together with Falco. She offered him his spot back on the Hot Rodders, and he accepted... on one condition; that they find a better name. He always felt "The Hot Rodders" was too unoriginal and retro. Changing the name was easy enough. But sooner or later, a gang is bound to get busted. The Hot Rodders fell apart, just as Star Fox fell apart. And when the time came for everyone to run, Katt left Falco behind holding the evidence, and ran to Kit Kool, the leader of the group.

She laughed at herself. Obviously, everyone _could_ actually blame her. It was all her fault. She had made so many mistakes. How could Falco forgive her? There was no chance of that, now that he was stuck in prison for the best years of his life. Yes, she had sold him out to lighten her own sentence, another mistake. Biting her lip, Katt did her best to shove the thoughts out of her mind. It was New Year's. Nothing was going to get her down. With that attitude, she hopefully strode down the sidewalk towards her empty apartment. The sun was finding refuge in the hills, not drowning in them. The skyscrapers were holding up the sky, not stabbing it. And the black pavement was whizzing by beneath her feet like an inky sky full of sparkling stars...

_There, that's much better, _she thought as she smiled, once again.

...And Katt Monroe was the most mess-up girl on the street.

* * *

Slippy tapped his foot anxiously as he waited for the work tram to pull into the station. It wasn't normal for him to be this nervous; it was the same station he waited at every morning. It wasn't that all the employees were called to run a night shift out of the blue that made him anxious, either. Looking down the side of the crowded station that stretched almost as far as the eye could see, Slippy squinted his eyes for any sign of the oncoming train. When a small light flickered down the line, it only took a quick glance above him at the arrival and departure board to confirm his shuttle had arrived.

As the platform shook and the hanging lights swung back and forth, the light grew in the distance, until a long train shuttle zoomed past, slowing down from speeds well above a hundred mph. The train brought with it a blast of cold wind from the night air outside the station, causing Slippy to clutch his small duffel bag closer to his chest and grab a hold of his panama hat to keep it from being blown away. The train had barely slowed down before the doors had opened and passengers began boarding and leaving the train. As Slippy stood still in a moment of indecision, animals brushed past him to pour into the rapidly crowding metro car. Why had he stopped? Why did he hesitate? Slippy waited a few seconds before taking a deep breath and reluctantly stepped onto the crowded metro shuttle. He had no reason to be troubled; it was the same train he took every day to work.

The cold night draft vanished behind the rapidly closing doors, giving way to the warm air sinking in through the ceiling mounted vents. Letting out a deep breath, he latched onto a vertical pole covered in finger prints from past workers. Glancing at his hand, he noticed his padded knuckles had turned white clutching the pole. There had to be a way to relax, somehow. Turning to look out the window and watch the urban scenery whiz by, he caught sight of the spectacled bear he greeted every day looking at him above a newspaper. Slippy's heart started pumping faster as he struggled to greet him. "Uh, h-h-hi... hi there."

The bear raised an eyebrow, obviously aware that something was troubling the amphibian. "Good afternoon, Slippy. Though I'm sure we would all rather be spending New Year's Eve at home with our families."

Slippy nodded agreeingly. "Y-y-yes, I'm sure we w-would all rather be at home right now. S-strange, how they call us back to work on a holiday." And with that, Slippy turned away to focus on anything else, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bear staring at him curiously.

Taking several long, calming breaths, he slowly relaxed his grip on the pole and the rest of his countenance. He had to keep calm. There was nothing to worry about. It was the same station he stopped at every day, the same train he took to work every day, and the same person he courteously greeted every day. What had gotten into him?

It was a rhetorical question, and Slippy knew the answer. Looking down at the duffel case he was worriedly swinging back and forth, he reminded himself of the one thing that was _not_ the same about today; he was carrying illegal files discovered in the remains of Andross's laboratory. Files his employers had trusted him to look over and return immediately. Files he had copied to pour over on his own time.

He had violated their confidence.

In all of the long years he spent outside of the Star Fox team, doing the pen-pushing work of the average citizen, not once had he cheated or lied to his company in any way. He was the perfect example of the ideal worker. Honest. Loyal. Hard-working. He had even made "technician of the month" several times, more than anyone else in his firm.

Any normal person would be completely fine with stealing a few files now and then, but not Slippy. Slippy was falling to pieces.


	2. The End

**Minutes to Midnight**

**Chapter 2: The End**

* * *

**A/N: So, Emile the Watcher has taken sick with the influenza. Without his and K.S. Reynard's hard work to put together the holiday contest, this story wouldn't be here. So pray for him, send him flowers, candy, get well cards, anything to cheer him up. **

* * *

Coming to an intersection, Katt slowed to a stop and looked up to watch the street-light, realizing she was now in the central plaza of Corneria City.

It was the largest intersection on the planet, with famous shops, offices, and restaurants circling a wide open thoroughfare in the middle. Large LED screens hung on the sides of the tallest buildings while holographic displays adorning their tops advertised company logos, the latest products, and upcoming events, the most important of which; the New Year's Celebration, which would start at 23:00, CST. Food and gift stands were being set up around the block, as well as decorations such as streamers hung from streetlamp to streetlamp, but the centerpiece of the display was a large, generic, black-and-white clock that lazily ticked away the seconds until midnight. Displayed on the largest and highest screen in the plaza, it was within easy sight of any passerby's glance.

As a red glow lit the intersection, Katt followed the rest of the crowd crossing the street into the main plaza, becoming a little river pouring into a larger lake of pedestrians. While crossing, Katt's boot brushed against a small patch of snow, no longer white and pure, but dirtied and saturated with the grime of the city. Looking up in the hope of another snow-shower to replace the few polluted signs of the last one, Katt watched the sky. The sun was sinking behind the cracks between the buildings, its last few ruby rays lighting up the plaza as the streetlamps turned on. To the east, the stars could barely be seen as they glimmered into existence, dazzling the inky blackness like flakes of snow.

One of the stars appeared much brighter than the others, catching Katt's alert eyes. She squinted at it, realizing it was steadily growing brighter. It suddenly sent a flash of light through the sky surrounding it, until it had increased to several times its normal size. Katt gasped and her mouth dropped open; a star had just exploded before here eyes.

She tapped a stranger's shoulder and pointed upward. "Excuse me, sir, I don't know how to say this... but... there's something wrong with the... sky..."

Looking at the sky, the racoon's jaw also dropped. "What in the name of... what is going on?"

"I don't know, I just happened to look up and notice that star. I've never seen anything like it before!"

Around them, more and more of the pedestrians stopped to observe the spectacle. A cry went up, as fingers pointed to another star that seemed to explode. Eventually, three stars in all had silently spread a blinding glow across the sky. The noise level in the plaza increased as people excitedly whispered about the event with worried voices. Deciding that her warm apartment could wait, Katt climbed a set of stone stairs that led up to a monument dedicated to the Lylat Wars and sat down, surrounded by other civilians, also watching the sky for any more activity.

The raccoon she had talked with found her in the crowd and sat down next to her, saying, "I think I know what it is."

Katt raised her eyebrow, still focused on the sky. "What?"

"Supernovas. That's what they are... supernovas."

"But how did they happen out of the blue? And at the same time?"

The raccoon looked down, taking off his glasses to rub them. "That... I don't know. It can't be natural. But the power needed to cause three stars to go supernova, and the planning, and the timing, would take a genius."

"Andross is dead," Katt answered, coldly, knowing who the raccoon was referring to.

"But there are other geniuses in the System besides that monkey, ma'am. Still, none as smart as he was, and none smart enough to pull off a stunt like that."

Eventually, their waiting paid off. A news feed suddenly replaced a screen to the left of the New Year's Clock, displaying a worried news collie who looked like she had hastily applied her make-up after being briefed of the situation.

"Breaking news," she started, hurriedly organizing her papers, "many civilians have reported three stars in the twilight sky visible from the Cornerian City latitude... explode. The CASA has just released a report confirming that the stars indeed went supernova, even though there were no previous astronomical indications they would do so. CASA believes the occurrences were not natural, yes, they were_ not_ natural. Experts have yet to figure out a reason for their seemingly random..."

The broadcast was joined by another news station on a smaller screen to the right of the New Year's clock, and then more and more as all of the news channels began reporting on the anomaly. The plaza was getting unbearably loud for Katt when suddenly every screen at the same time erupted in static and turned bleach white. Each screen acted in sync as a black hand materialized, which Katt immediately recognized as the Oikonny's family emblem, the opposable thumb, a symbol of their superiority over the rest of the animal kingdom. Dash Bowman's face soon replaced the hand. He was breathing heavily, with sweat beading his brow. He seemed extremely nervous, as if his speech would drop a bomb on the ears of the world's population.

"Citizens of Lylat, I appear to you now as I make the last stand of the Androssian legacy. The events you have just witnessed are not of a natural occurrence. They are a result of years of experimentation Andross accomplished during his lifetime, experiments my own scientists have carried on and seen to fruition." He paused a moment to wipe his brow, and wet his lips with a glass of water. Inhaling, he continued, "The end of the Animalia kingdom... is near at hand. Years of war, years of hunger, and years of suffering have marred Lylat's history since the beginning of time. Is this what we want? Is this what we have lived for? I am not speaking to you now to propose some wild bill to the senate, to promote a new political candidate, or to ramble on for hours on the sad condition of the world. I will not mince words. I am talking about _now._ The world's problems will be solved tonight, at midnight exactly..." here he trailed off, panting, as the citizens in the square held on to every word, "when I... destroy... the System."

The masses crowding the plaza gasped and began hurriedly talking. As if he could guess their thoughts, Bowman continued. "I have made no empty threat. As you have seen, the power to do so is completely in my grasp. At midnight, I will cause Lylat's own star to explode in a supernova, ensuring all life in the system is annihilated. Nothing can stop me now. Do not try. The time is currently 20:47, I suggest you make the last moments of your life count, for these precious few minutes are the most valuable minutes you will ever have. Good... bye..." He trailed off, wiping his brow and mumbling a few last words. "_Now I am become death... the destroyer of worlds..._"

The screen now returned to the New Year's clock, which took on a whole new, ominous, meaning. Chills ran down Katt's spine as she watched the clock slowly tick down. The hour hand was moving sluggishly, the minute hand at a steady pace, but the second hand was moving rapidly, _way_ too rapidly. The one-time symbol of celebration had become a symbol of impending doom.

Katt let her head fall into her hands, despair sinking in. She refused to believe it. It was completely impossible. Succumbing to pressure and fear, she curled up on the steps of the monument as the chaos of the square and the heavy knowledge of the end overwhelmed her. "What now?" she asked to the cold night air.

Her raccoon companion quickly scooted over to her side, trying to comfort her. "I don't know, dear." As Katt hid her face in her hands, he continued to stare out into the plaza, thinking. "Its a tough question, but a classic one. _If you only had moments to live... what would you do?_"

* * *

Slippy entered the large automatic doors of the Advanced Weapons Guild, cautiously looking around. The familiar work-place was laid out before him as always; in the middle was an open atrium that stretched up ten floors, each one with a balcony that circled around the court. To Slippy's left was an information desk where several receptionists worked, constantly greeting guests and helping out clients. To his right was a lounge room meant for workers to spend their lunch time at, complete with cafeterias, tables, and couches. Squinting his eyes, Slippy noticed two of his friends sitting at a coffee table and talking earnestly to one another. Catching sight of him, they waved for Slippy to join them.

Maneuvering around the crowd of arriving workers, Slippy made his way over to his friends' table. Ralph, an English Mastiff, stood up to greet him. "Well, well, Slip. Nice to see you again. Truthfully, I'd welcome anyone's company on a night like this."

Ike, a lime-green colored iguana, heartily agreed. "Sure thing. Imagine that, calling us out to work on New Year's Eve! The war on holidays is true, mark my words. Next year we won't even have Christmas off."

Slippy set down his duffel bag beneath the table, relieved to get rid of it. "Any idea why we were called back?"

Ike nodded. "The Cornerian Defense Force just offered the weapons deal to Space Dynamics! They said we were taking too long! Imagine that. We work for them for twelve years, and just like that, they switch suppliers! And now we have to work over time so we can get the job done before Dynamics does."

Ralph elbowed Slippy. "Hey, you used to work for Space Dynamics, right?"

"More than that," Slippy said. "The founder, Beltino Toad, is my dad."

Ralph's jaw dropped. "Slip! You've been holding out on us! First you didn't tell us you were part of Star Fox, and now you didn't tell us Beltino Toad is your dad!"

Ike, the intelligent one, face-palmed himself. "Wow. Didn't see that one coming. Beltino_ Toad_. Slippy _Toad_. How did we not get that?"

Ralph gestured around at the hundreds of workers passing them by. "Well, how many of these guys have the same generic last name? John Dog, John Bird, John Toad, it's a pretty common thing."

Ike squinted his eyes at Slippy, a look that always unnerved him. "But why are you working here at your dad's rival company instead of with him? Did you have a falling out with the old man?"

"You... you could say that." Slippy looked nervously around at the busy work-place. "It actually wasn't that bad. When Star Fox reformed several years ago, I left my dad's company for them. He got over it, after awhile. But when Star Fox fell apart, I just couldn't go back begging him for a job again. Of course he would have given it to me in a second, but I just couldn't face him. He understood, and said I might as well make my own way up to the top. You know, not standing in his shadow for the rest of my life, or living off of his success."

"And that is why you came to the AWG," Ralph finished as he passed Slippy a steaming hot cup of coffee, which he gladly accepted to help him get through the night.

Ike lifted an eyebrow, still curious. "But what brought you to the AWG? Besides the fact that it is the second largest tech company in the System."

Slippy gulped. "Well, that part's a little more personal."

Ralph chuckled. "Yeah, like telling us how you left your dad wasn't personal enough."

Slippy glared at him, but his face quickly gave way to a smile. "Anyway, I was attracted to the AWG mainly because of its connections to Andross."

"That's right," Ike said, "Andross used to be the most valuable asset to the AWG. He left behind a lot of his work which helped the company grow..."

"...And he nearly ruined it in the last few years of his life," Ralph added.

"And then there is the business of the findings in Andross's old laboratories and lairs on Venom," Ike went on. "Recently, a lot of his newer inventions were discovered. The CDF gave them to the Guild so we could make sense of them, and perhaps develop them. Picking-up where Andross left off, kinda."

"I-I know," Slippy stuttered, checking with his foot that the duffel bag was still underneath the table. "I got to work with some of the stuff hands on."

Ike's reptilian eyes sparkled, greedily. "Oooh, I wish I was in your shoes, Slippy. What I would do to get my hands on some of Andross's work."

"Yes, indeed..." Slippy trailed off, staring off into space and nervously wringing his hands.

"Anything wrong, Slip?" Ralph asked, eying Slippy's half-empty cup of coffee.

"N-Nothing..." Slippy mumbled.

Ike bent over, leaning in closer to Slippy. "Say!? What's been eating you lately? You look as nervous as a kindergartener waiting backstage at his first school pageant! Wringing your hands, shaking uncontrollably, and stuttering up a storm!"

Slippy snapped back to the present. "Oh, uh... sorry, guys. There is something I need to take care of, but it's actually... quite... _personal_."

Ralph cringed at the word. "Personal my foot! How can there be anything more personal than the last two tid-bits of information you shared with – "

Slippy was saved by the bell; the large announcement feed was projected onto the glass windows of the front lobby, followed by a chime to alert all of the workers to watch. Every screen in the AWG headquarters immediately switched to the same news feed. Slippy's friends turned their attentions away from him and onto the massive screen.

One by one, every, single, jaw, in the lobby and lounge of the building, dropped.

Slippy's eyes bulged more than usual, taking in the news feed; plastered across the screen were videos of Bowman's speech, the Cornerian Chancellor confirming the news, several frantic reporters, scrolling text, the black hand of the Oikonny family... and the New Year's Eve Clock, slowly ticking away.

All around them, workers began to panic. Some fell into hysterical fits of screaming, some made wild dashes for the doors, and others collapsed onto the floor. Slippy Ralph, and Ike all slid back down into their cushioned seats around the coffee table. Slippy breathed out, "Wow..."

Ike covered his face in his hands. "Is this really happening?"

Ralph shook his head. "It's-it's-it's all a joke! A cruel April Fool's joke!" The canine rose up from his chair to gesture at the news feed. "HA HA HAAA, MR. CHANCELLOR! WE GET IT! JOKE'S OVER NOW!"

Ike sat up. "Oh for the love of God, QUIT MAKING A FOOL OUT OF YOURSELF!" He grabbed onto Ralph and pulled him back down in his chair, giving him a sound slap to the muzzle. "Just get a dang hold on yourself!"

Slippy began shaking again. "It's impossible. It's just impossible. Who would have thought the end of the world would ever come?"

"What the hell are we going to do now?" Ike asked, checking his wrist watch. "We have three hours left before midnight."

Ralph jumped up again, nearly knocking the table over. "Well screw the AWG! I ain't waistin' the last of my life in a worthless dump like this! Screw business! Screw money! Screw everything!"

The duffel bag pressed hard on Slippy's heel. "Look, guys, about that personal problem..."

Ike met his eyes. "It just got a whole lot less personal?"

Slippy nodded. "I... uh... stole some copies of Andross's material."

Ralph looked down at him, laughing. "Really Slippy? _Really? _You're serious? You're dead serious?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is beautiful! It comes to the end of the world and all you have to confess to is stealin' a few documents! I can see why you were the employee of the month so many times!"

Slippy glared at him. "Then you can also see why my crime was so bad. They trusted me! They took me in, knowing fully well who I was! They entrusted those files to me, top secret files! And I stole them! And now it's the end of the world..."

"Well, if it comes to me," Ike said, "I think now is the time to make right all of our wrongs, come to terms with everything, forgive and forget. You know the drill."

"Why Ike!" Ralph gasped in disbelief. "I'd never thought an existentialist like you would ever get a religious streak."

"It would take the end of the world..." Ike agreed.

"I've got to turn myself in," Slippy mumbled, once again staring off into space.

"What for?" Ralph and Ike asked at the same time.

"For stealing the documents."

Ralph bent down so he was at Slippy's height. "Why would you turn yourself in? No one gives a dang anymore! It's the end of the world!"

"Exactly!" Slippy said, standing up and wading into the crowd. "I'm confessing because it _is_ the end of the world!"

His last picture of his friends was of Ralph giving Ike a baffled look and Ike shrugging back, completely at a loss. The realization that this was the last time he would see them hit Slippy like a sledge hammer. He waded deeper into the turbulent sea of workers, intent on making everything right.

* * *

Fox staggered out of the warehouse, drenched in blood and carrying a briefcase full of credits. Tears were flowing from his eyes, his pulse still racing while his gut was twisting inside of him from nausea. He dropped his blood-soaked knife onto the snow-covered ground, its wight and sharp edge stabbing into the pure snow, flung the briefcase off his back like a millstone, and bounded forwards with his last reserve of energy. His strength failing him, Fox slipped on the newly fallen snow and fell into the chilly powder. Pushing himself to his knees, he looked at his blood-stained paws, then felt his crimson soaked jacket and pants. Recoiling in disgust and fear, he plunged his hands into the cold snow, trying to clean them of the blood. He grabbed fistfuls of the icy flakes and rubbed them against his clothes, but nothing worked. He felt himself panicking, loosing his self-control as his breathing quickened, his chest heaved inwards and outwards, and his heart pumped blood through his veins at hyper-fast speeds. He threw himself against the ground, writhing like a snake, but with no success; he could not get rid of the crimson stains.

_So this is what a panic-attack feels like, _Fox thought.

Defeated, he curled into a fatal position, sobbing his eyes out like he had years ago when he learned his father had died at the hands of Andross. "Oh God... why..." he whimpered, crying into his hands. When he hid the stains of blood from his eyes, he was only assaulted with images in his head of the gruesome fight inside the warehouse. The blood, the panicked shouts, the blood, the flashing weapons, the blood, the screams of anguish, GOD, THE BLOOD! Fox grabbed his head, forcing his eyes shut and shaking back and forth. He finally resorted to beating his head against the snow covered ground, but the present pain did not help him to forget what had happened. He stopped, gasping at the air, tears dripping from his eyes, chest heaving from exertion, and body shivering from his freezing sweat, until he finally relaxed. He lay there at least ten minutes, face pressed against the snow, feeling pain until there was nothing left to feel.

Long after his tears had dried, his wrist comm beeped. He took his time in answering, slowly raising the comm to his mouth as he stared up at the dark sky. Knowing who it was, he spat, "What."

"I was calling about our deal," Mothchild's voice answered him... but something was missing from it, maybe the pride or malice that normally tinged it. In a way, he sounded just as defeated as Fox.

Ignoring the change, Fox channeled his grief into anger. "Look, the job is done, but my contract is off. I'm quitting. The briefcase is outside the warehouse, you can pick it up whenever you feel like. I'm not accepting any pay; I don't want your money."

"McCloud... _Fox_..." Mothchild had never used his first name before, "the credits don't matter anymore."

"What do you mean?" Fox asked, a wrench thrown into his engine of rage.

"_Nothing_ matters anymore..." Mothchild breathed heavily, causing the comm to fill with a storm of static. "Here, this will do a better job of explaining than I could. I'm sending you a link... and, I'm sorry, Fox."

Fox sat up as Mothchild closed the communications line, and he opened the link to a news article his employer sent to him. His jaw slowly dropped as white light lit his face from images of the New Year's Clock, the black hand of Androssian family, and Dash Bowman's warning. "No..." he whispered. He dropped the wrist comm into the snow and fell to the ground once again, dizzied by the events of the day. It was all too much, but after what had happened, he was completely prepared for the end of the world, welcoming, even. Fox was at his lowest he had been in his whole life, and now he was actually looking forwards to the final "finis" in his own tragedy.

_"__What have I done?"_


	3. Hope

**M****inutes to Midnight**

**Chapter 3: Hope**

* * *

Katt threw her weight hard against the two double doors that led into the bar. The doors swung open, and she entered, dragging in her wake a chilling draft of biting winter wind. The patrons near the exit shivered, clutching their coats tighter around their bodies. Once the doors slammed shut, and the cold draft made its way through the entirety of the room, every eye turned towards her. Conversations died out, with not even a whisper left. Card-players looked up, forgetting their hands. The local drunk quickly stopped a long guzzle from his beer. The only sound came from the bartender who awkwardly filled up a mug from a bar fountain. Every one was looking at Katt with empty stares.

They had lost all meaning.

Katt surveyed the group, eyes slowly making their way around the room. She was breathing heavily, and shivering violently from the cold. Katt could feel the tear stains still wet on her cheeks; her mascara must have been smeared terribly. "Well?!" she demanded, in a loud voice.

The bar remained silent.

Katt took a few breathes before continuing. "What are you retards doing?"

Again, no answer from the blank faces.

"Come on! I've seen more life in a morgue than in this dump!" She looked around, helplessly. "Well, what the hell are y'all starin' at?"

The drunk seated at the bar shrugged, burped, and turned back to his beer. The stand-off ended, everyone uneasily returned to their occupations, though staring out of the corner of their eyes at Katt once every so often. Katt spat on the floor as if her mission was accomplished, and she weakly staggered over to the bar, seating herself on a cushioned stool.

She slouched in the chair, crossing her arms on the bar and resting her chin on them, lazily staring at the polished cherry-wood that made up the counter. The bartender wandered over to her, noticing her suddenly defeated attitude.

"Hello, Miss," the grizzled pig greeted her with a gruff but kind voice. "What's a gal like you doin' here?"

Katt looked up from the polished wood counter to see the genuinely concerned expression on the bartender's face. Katt sighed. "Oh, the same thing everyone is doing; killing time... until time kills _us_."

The hog scratched his peach-fuzzed chin thoughtfully. "Then why are you goin' on about it in such a serious way? You gotta lighten up!"

Katt threw a thumb over her shoulder at the patrons behind her. "I was intent on making a night of the evening, 'til I found these wet blankets. Talk about putting a damper on things."

The bartender squinted his eyes at the patrons behind her, then waved his hand dismissively. "Who? Them? Their just feelin' a little down, like you are, Miss. I'm sure a little drink can cheer them up. That's what this place is for; making people forget the past and have a good time while they're at it."

Katt nodded. "You're right; a good drink will help. It _is _the reason one comes to a bar..."

"Well, what can I get ya, Miss?"

"It's _Katt_, from now on. And I'll take a bourbon whiskey."

The bartender shoved off of the counter, heading over to the drink fountain. Only a few seconds later, he returned with a glass sloshing with a golden-orange colored liquid, clinking with ice. Katt lifted her head off of her arms and straightened up at the sight of the drink. She had gone far too long since her last daily dose of alcohol, and tonight was no night to quit. When the bartender set the drink down on the counter, Katt eagerly picked it up and drained it in one long swig, the ice tickling her whiskered nose at the end. Slamming the empty glass on the counter with a clunk, Katt exhaled with a contented sigh, looking at the bartender expectantly.

The pig raised an eyebrow, obviously impressed with Katt's display. Knowing Katt's look meant "more," he made another trip to refill the glass and bring it back. This time, Katt took her time with the drink, slowly enjoying it. After awhile, she looked back up at her new friend. "Say, I never got your name."

The pig grunted. "It's Floyd."

Katt smiled, already feeling the drowsy effects of the drink in her veins and brain. "Well, Floyd... you were right; a drink did help."

Floyd smiled back, if the contortion that twisted his wrinkled, chubby face counted as one. "Glad it did, Katt, and I hope you feel better."

Katt gestured behind her back. "Yeah, and maybe these stick-in-the-muds could use some too." By now, the alcohol was starting to affect her judgment. Spinning around, she shouted in a voice that got everyone's attention. "Hey! You wet blankets! You all could use a few pick-me-ups! Come on! The drinks are all on me!"

Floyd quickly added, "Correction! All the drinks are on da house!"

Slowly, but steadily, the patrons left their occupations to drift over to the counter, seating around Katt, who grinned, smugly, as she sipped the last few drops out of her glass...

...and quickly found herself staring down another one.

* * *

It never stops with one. Not for Katt, not for anyone else in the bar.

Before long she had the whole place swinging from the chandelier, admittedly quite a feat, but one Katt was known for. As loud music played over an antique jukebox, even louder voices drowned it out, singing in a hundred off-key notes. The patrons-turned-partiers sang Disney song after Disney song, as those were the only songs anyone seemed to know or had the skill to sing at their... _advanced_ level of intoxication.

Katt had found herself swung and tossed around the room like a corked bottle in a tempest, leaving one dance circle to find herself in a slurred chorus of "Hakuna Matata," then spun into the arms of a random stranger she willingly shared several dripping kisses with. After the eighth bottle of vintage wine the bartender popped open, the party turned into a random swirl of colors and noises, clearing up once in a while just enough for a wild dance, a catchy song, passionate loving, or the next bottle of beer. Beer? Wine? Bourbon? It didn't make a difference. A potato served mashed, boiled, or fried, is still a potato.

Katt finally found herself spun out of a limbo line like a car spins-out on ice, and fell into one of the table booths by the window. She was laughing uncontrollably, struggling to keep herself upright as she caught a breath after the roller-coaster ride of a party. She squinted at the seat next to her, eventually finding it to be occupied by the same drunk drinking at the bar earlier. The bloodhound was sitting alone in the booth, somehow separated from the rest of the party like a wall-flower. Even though the hound's eyes were normally depressing and droopy, his seemed much more so, as if something were bothering him.

Katt scooted closer to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder and leaning into him. "Well now, what'sss wrong, poor man?" she slurred.

The bloodhound lifted his head to look at her, immediately noticing her proximity. When he spoke, it was with such clarity that Katt realized he was, ironically, the only sober animal in the bar. Shrugging, he said, "Oh, it's nothing you should worry about, ma'am."

"Now come on, I wanna help. I wanna help you out!" She leaned in closer, looking around the room with eyes that wouldn't focus, as if she were checking that no one else was listening in. "You see, the way I see it, isss that beer leavesss a person with one of two feelingsss; he getsss really happy, or he getsss really sad. You look down, sir. Don't look so!"

The former drunk shook his head. "I just can't stand it. Everyone around here is so thoughtless! It's the end of the world! They're waistin' their last moments alive gettin' drunk and partying around! Isn't that what we do every day? Can't we do something different on the last day of the world?"

Katt scratched her head, thoughtfully. "Wait... wait a... wait a minute... you meantersay, that partying... makesss you... _not _want to party? I don't get it."

The bloodhound just kept on shaking his head, and turned so he could look out the window. "I've gotta missus, you know. And two kids. But now they're gone."

"You mean they are..." Katt gestured far away with her paws, "gone gone? Or are they..." she pointed upwards, "_gone _gone?"

"I left them a year ago. Had one too many fights with the wife, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Katt agreed, getting a far away look on her face. She was suddenly thinking about her own fights and arguments.

"And now they're gone, an' it's the end of the world, an' I can't do a dang thing about it..." He turned away from the window to face Katt again. "Do you have anyone you had a falling-out with? You know, someone special? Family? Friends? A boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Katt agreed, her thoughts beginning to warm up and run faster again.

"Then now is the time to make up. Everything you haven't done in the past, all the loose ends you've left untied, should be fixed. The end is the time for making-up."

"Make up..." Katt repeated, conjuring up images of Falco at her side, on a mission with the team, on a job for the Hot-Rodders, enjoying leisure time with her, seeing him in orange prison fatigues in a courtroom, and finally, behind bars. All of these memories swirled around in her head, fighting for her attention. "Falco..." she whispered.

"What?" The drunk asked her.

"I've gotta see Falco!" Katt exclaimed as she pushed herself up out of the booth and back into the chaos of the bar. "I've gotta see Falco!" She stumbled forwards a few steps, grabbed onto a row of seats for support, and then fell completely, collapsing on the floor. She could her exclamations of surprise and shameless laughter coming from all sides as she struggled to get back up.

Unexpectedly, two firm but caring arms wrapped around her and turned her right-side up. Squinting, Katt was able to make out the violet, refined face of a long forgotten friend.

"Krystal?"

* * *

Fox's eyes remained closed as he lay in the soft snow, shivering. He had laid there for some time now, trying to chase away the images that still drifted around in his mind. Something tickled his nose, and he couldn't help sneezing. It had been extremely small, wet, and cold. Another speck tickled his forehead, and he furrowed his brow in reflex. Then, more and more began touching him. He opened his eyes and looked up to see a light snow fall descending down. The cloudy sky was lit by the blue glow of dusk, the rays of the sun absent from the early morning.

As soon as he had opened his eyes, a snowflake landed in one, causing him to flinch and rub his eye. A fresh snow fall definitely wasn't good. He had to find cover somewhere, a place to escape the cold, or he would freeze. Behind him was the warehouse, but Fox knew he wouldn't be able to take the psychological stress of re-entering it. To his right were the outskirts of Syvarris city, where he would definitely find shelter with some effort. But directly in front of him was a forest that lead on like an ocean into the wilderness, the dark trees covered in snow. Fox scanned the treeline, judging whether it would provide a good accommodation or not. The solitary state of the forest was more desirable than the urban city. But suddenly, he saw movement at the edge of the woods.

Fox struggled to his feet, narrowing his eyes at the treeline. He was able to make out some sort of animal hiding in the shadow of an oak. Curious, Fox cautiously stepped over towards the forest, keeping his eyes on the creature. It was a young vulpine, dressed in casual clothes that were definitely too cold for winter. The strangest thing, however, was the animal's blue fur, that Fox knew belonged to only two people in the universe. He rubbed his eyes, making sure it wasn't an illusion.

"M-Marcus?" Fox called. The animal didn't react. "Marcus, how did you get... how are you... not... _dead_?" he said, choking on the last word.

His long lost son finally waved at him, then turned around and bounded into the woods. Afraid of losing him, Fox took off, sprinting into the woods after him.

"Marcus! Wait! Its me, your dad!"

But Marcus remained silent as he lead Fox through the snow-dusted forest. To the best of his abilities, Fox followed him, leaping over roots, ducking under branches, and swinging around trees, only managing to capture fleeting glimpses of his son before he disappeared behind another dormant tree. At one moment, when a long bare field separated them, Fox saw Marcus turn around and give him a curious smile. Bewildered, Fox slid to a stop and stared at him, only to have Marcus dive back into the woods. Renewing the chase, Fox sprinted on after him. After awhile, Fox heard a sound he had not heard in several years:

Marcus laughing.

At first it was a rare giggle or outburst here and there, causing Fox's ears to perk up, but then it became so joyous that Fox soon found himself laughing along with him. They continued on like this for some time, Marcus leading Fox deeper and deeper into the wooded forest, the chase becoming more of a humorous game than a nightmarish chase after something he could never catch. The calm blue light of the early dawn filtered through the branches, lighting Fox's way through the woods. He slid chaotically on the smooth, unspoiled carpet of snow that perfectly covered the forest floor. Was this how he was to spend the rest of eternity? Chasing after something he could never find in his pitiful life? Maybe he was already dead, but what a way to start the afterlife.

Already, Fox felt better.

"Come here, you little rascal!"

* * *

21:15. That was what the clock read. 21:15.

Slippy sat in a waiting chair, nervously rubbing his panama hat with his fingers. He had the clock locked in a death-stare, as if his life depended on it. Which it did. To his left, the rabbit secretary was busy behind her desk, talking with someone over the phone. He had already wasted several minutes waiting to be admitted to the CEO's office. On the chair beside him sat his duffel bag, the contents determined to haunt Slippy for the last few hours of his life. Out of habit, he glanced up at the clock again.

21:15. _Why hadn't it changed? _Slippy thought. _Maybe it had stopped._

21:16. _Oh. Or not._

A buzz sounded from the secretary's desk, causing Slippy to look her way again. The rabbit wordlessly pointed towards the CEO's door while cradling the phone between her chin and shoulder and rifling through a filing cabinet.

Slippy gulped, rising from his chair and awkwardly walking across the room to the door as if he were at a dentist appointment. He opened the door to find a wide open office, at the back of which was a massive desk. Scattered across the desk were many telephone lines, more than Slippy could count, all of which were either off the hook, ringing persistently, or at the ear of the CEO of AWG's ear, Bill Goats. The Executive was struggling to keep track of the telephones, shouting angrily into one, pleading softly and sincerely with another, and dropping foul language left and right into others. When he noticed Slippy, he gestured to the empty chair in front of him with his proudly curved horns. Slippy anxiously sat down, deciding to listen in on the conversation.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU HAVEN'T TRACED THE SIGNAL YET!?" he shouted into a green telephone. "THE CDF WANTS THAT BROADCAST TRACED _NOW_! You at least have the frequency it was relayed on, correct? Good. THEN KEEP WORKING!" He slammed the phone down and picked up a black one. "SYLVIA! WHERE'S MY DANG COFFEE!" He gulped suddenly, attempting to loosen the collar on his suit. "S-s-sorry, senator, you see, I have so many lines open... yes... yes sir, I understand. It won't happen again, I assure – " He suddenly dropped the phone and face-palmed himself. "What the hell do I care anymore..." he mumbled. He picked up the phone again, shouting, "SCREW YOU TOO, SENATOR!" and finally slammed it back down. He frantically searched his desk, scattering papers, knocking over empty mugs, and opening random drawers. Victoriously, he pulled out a silver colored phone from the last drawer, along with a half-finished bowl of Ramen noodles. He put the phone to his ear, saying, "Sylvia, _darling_... WHERE IN THE BLAZES IS MY COFFEE! Thank you. What's that? Who's calling now? THE WHAT!? Put him on!" As another phone rang, Bill Goats placed his arms in front of him, and swung them outwards in wide arcs, unceremoniously sending phones and folders flying off the desk in all directions, to reveal a single, red phone, pleasantly ringing. "It's the Chancellor!" he whispered to Slippy, who immediately straightened-up out of respect. The CEO slowly reached for the phone, as nervous as Slippy was, and stuttered, "H-hello?"

He winced as a stream of violent obscenities, threats, and orders blasted out of the phone and into his ear. "Yessir... quite right, sir... we're working on it now, sir... I see, we need someone like an ambassador? A friend would be the best? Understood sir... Sorry, I didn't catch that last part, you're going to do what to my...?" As the final blast of curses emitted from the phone, Bill Goats hurriedly hung it up. "Phew..." he exhaled, rubbing his eyes. His face contorted as he cringed again. "Oh God, I just hung up on the Supreme Chancellor of Corneria. What have I done..."

Slippy respectfully cleared his throat.

The goat peeked through his hands at his guest. "Oh, it's you, Toad. I don't have a lot of time to talk, so make it quick. I have the CDF on one hand wanting me to locate Dash Bowmen so we can blow him to hell, and the Chancellor on the other telling me to try to barter with the monkey. _And _I have the New Year's Eve clock breathing down my back. It seems no one has time for anything anymore. But quick, out with it."

Slippy set his duffel bag on the now cleared desk. "You see, sir, there has been something eating at my conscience for some time now – "

"If you are referring to the company's funding of abortions, we have better things to worry about. The whole _world _is being aborted."

"Well, come to think of it, yes, that is a bit disturbing... but that's not what I came to talk about. You see, it's something I've done. I've broken your trust, sir."

Bill Goats rolled his eyes. "Oh, is that all. What, you've pillaged some money from the treasury? Called in sick when you weren't? Stolen some valuable materials?"

"Y-yes, I... stole some files of Andross's research. You see, I... I just _had _to get it off my chest before the end of the world. It means so much to me, with my perfect record and all, sir – "

Bill Goats waved his hand dismissively. "I see, I see. Well, don't worry, no one cares anymore. I wouldn't care if you strangled my son and stole my wife from me. Now if you wouldn't mind getting out of here – "

"Oh, please sir, forgive me, _I _do care, and I wanted to make it up to you before my time comes."

"Look, Mr. Toad... _Slippy_... I forgive you. But do leave at once. I need to find an old friend of Dash Bowman's that can reason with him before twelve o'clock midnight tonight, or the Cornerian Chancellor will have my... gulp..." Bill Goats nervously chewed on his hooves, thinking. "Hey, wait a minute." He looked back at Slippy. "You use to know Bowmen, right?"

Slippy slowly nodded, not liking where the conversation was going. "Yeah, he was part of Star Fox for awhile. He flew with us during the Anglar Blitz until we broke up a few years ago... haven't seen him since."

Goats jumped at the chance, leaving his seat and circumventing his desk to approach him. "Slippy, my boy, you know that little favor you just mentioned?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"I need you to speak to Dash."

"WHAT! ARE YOU INSANE!? ME!?"

"You are the only one he can talk to! You must understand this! You're his friend! He won't speak to anyone else!"

"WITH THE WHOLE WORLD DEPENDING ON ME! I CAN'T DO THAT!"

"How many times has the world depended on you and Star Fox before? Once, twice, a dozen! What makes this time any different?"

"Because now I have to use my social skills! I don't have those! People don't work like machines! That's why I do better in a mechanic's shop than at a party! I'll say something wrong and screw everything up!"

"Maybe, but what do you have to lose? How can it get any worse?"

"I might get him to blow the world up a couple of hours sooner!"

Bill Goats spun away from Slippy, completely frustrated. It was obvious he was trying to control his temper. Slowly turning around, he pulled out a mobile phone. Punching in a few keys, he held it out to Slippy. "Look, you have one shot to fix everything. Hit the call button, and you are connected to Bowman's frequency. Comprende? And I'm not giving you a choice here, Slippy. It's for me, your boss. It's for your business record here. It's for the Chancellor. Your pretty little wife and kids at home. Heck with it, It's for the whole flippin' world!"

"But-but-but, but I – "

"No buts!" The CEO placed the phone in Slippy's hands, pulled him out of his chair, and dragged him by the shoulder to a door at the left of his office. He opened it, and set Slippy upright inside. "Now, don't come out until you talk Dash out of it, or the world ends, you got it?"

Slippy nodded.

Goats sighed, shaking his head doubtfully as he stared at Slippy. "And this is Corneria's last hope..." He shut the door on Slippy's face, leaving him locked in the room. He just stood there, dazed, eyes wide, looking back and forth between the phone and the shut door. Finally, he turned around to examine the room.

The first thing that struck him was the sharp contrast between the new room and the CEO's room. Gone were the constantly ringing telephones, bright overhead lights, unceasing noise, and cluttered desk. Instead, Slippy found a dark, bare room that completely breathed peace. The only light that lit the room was the dim, ambient light drifting in through the wide window that completely covered one of the walls. Slippy ambled on over to it, looking outside. The window revealed the back alleys of a building square, drenched in shadows from the streetlights just out of sight. He squinted his eyes, noticing that a light flurry of snow was falling. He noticed the glowing reflection in the window of the open phone still in his hand. It was time to make a choice.

He hopped up onto a desk and sat down on it, cradling the phone in his hand. His finger hovered over the glowing screen, which displayed a glowing green call button and a red cancel button. Slippy hesitated for a moment, struggling inside over his next decision.

_Don't call! _avoice said in his head. _You'll only make it worse! Dash has made up his mind already, nothing you say can change it! Accept your fate, no one will blame you._

_ But what will everyone think of you? _anew voice countered. _You, Slippy Toad, gave up a chance to save the world!_

_ Alright, fine! _Slippy said, silencing both of them.

He made up his mind, tapping the call button, for better or for worse. The call was placed through, only taking a few seconds to connect. It rang once... twice...

_"Hello?"_

* * *

**A/N: I really need opinions on the humor. It's the easiest and funnest to write, but does it spoil the mood of the story?**


	4. Reconciliation

**Minutes to Midnight**

**Chapter 4: Reconciliation**

* * *

**A/N: I didn't expect to turn this chapter out until next week, but heavy snow canceled exams for a few days. Lucky me! I get to work on this more. But tomorrow, it's back to exams.**

* * *

"I'm so sorry you had to see me like this, Krystal," Katt said as she sat down in her recliner. She was wrapped in a bath robe, dripping wet from hot and cold showers. Her familiar apartment was a comforting change of atmosphere, however, one that she was thankful for. Krystal had dragged a drunken Katt all the way home from the bar, through chilling cold and snow, and then made an attempt at cleaning her up. "I can't believe I was such an idiot... just wasting time like that... stupid..."

Krystal gave Katt a weak smile as she passed her another cup of black coffee. "Katt, don't be so hard on yourself. You can pull through this."

"I'm not going to sober up in time," Katt whimpered, slowly sipping her coffee. "It's hopeless. There's no way I can see Falco in this condition."

"Here, take some of these." Krystal pulled out a medicine packet, popping two pills out and handing them to Katt. "Anti-intoxication pills."

Katt didn't even flinch as she swallowed the pills and took another swig of coffee. "I'm an expert at taking pills," she explained. "I've had to take them... all my life." She suddenly choked up with tears.

"No, please, Katt, don't do this to yourself!" Krystal rushed over to her side, placing her comforting paws on Katt's shoulders. "You have to pull yourself together! It's not over yet, you have to push through to the end!"

Katt placed her paw on Krystal's. "I'm sorry about all this, and I appreciate your help, Krystal. I... don't know what I would have done without you."

Krystal gave her a warm, assuring smile. "Don't worry about it. But I really must be going; we're both running out of time."

Katt furrowed her eyes. "Both of us?"

Krystal nodded. "I have to find Fox. He's somewhere in Syvarris city." She patted Katt on the back. "And you have to see Falco."

"But I don't know where he is! They could be holding him on another planet for all I know."

Krystal whipped out a sheet of paper she had hastily scrawled on. "I've got everything covered; the directions are here. The prison's on the outskirts of Corneria City." She then stood up and rushed towards the door, turning around to look one last time at Katt. "I'll see you on the other side, Katt."

Katt nodded back. "Good luck with finding Fox."

A tear slid down the side of Krystal's face, dampening her fur. Finally, she stepped outside into the hallway and closed the door.

Katt sighed, her last friend in the world gone. She was now on her own. Katt slowly turned her attention back down to the piece of paper Krystal had given her. "I'm coming, Falco..."

* * *

"Hey, Marcus, isn't it a little past your bed time?"

Marcus merely returned Fox's question with a gesture upwards.

Fox raised his eyes to look through the web of barren branches at the distant sky. It was clearly no longer night; the blue early morning light was filtering through the trees. "Oh, I guess it's about the time you would be getting up, huh?" Fox was seriously beginning to question which one of them was the child in their present situation.

Taking his eyes off of the forest floor caused Fox to trip on an outstretched root. He plummeted over, landing face first in the snow. Lifting his head up and shaking it to disperse the snow, Fox looked ahead at Marcus, who disappeared beneath an embankment, the only thing he left behind for Fox to look at was the pure white snow. Fox narrowed his eyes, scanning the ground between him and the embankment. It was then that Fox realized Marcus was not making any footprints.

This stopped his laughter and made him doubt.

So he really was chasing after a ghost. It was hopeless, then. He would never catch him. He could never have him again. Fox let his head fall back into the snow again in despair. It was all pointless now. Curious how time could move so slow now that the world was so close to ending. He was giving up, determined to wait for the end right then and there. But something told him to move on, to just keep going until he reached the next hill. After that, he would finally be done.

He started off in a crawl, wiggling through damp piles of snow. Then he got up onto his four legs, pushing himself forwards and forwards. By the time he reached the top of the embankment, he was finally running again. Coming up on the edge, he suddenly found himself tumbling down a steep incline, sliding chaotically through brown leaves, melting snow, and loosened dirt. At the bottom, he slid out of the forest and onto a frozen stream, scattering dried leaves and mounds of snow. It was a rather large stream that must have frozen overnight, with a crystalline waterfall surrounded by large rocks and boulders on either side that immediately caught his eye.

Behind the brink of the waterfall, the warm glow of dawn was breaking, the sky turning cotton-candy pink and blue, but the sun was still below the horizon, as if waiting for the exact moment to make its entrance. Fox's eyes were immediately drawn to the top of the waterfall, awed at the beauty of the scene which was in stark contrast to his dark experience earlier in the warehouse.

A vulpine figure stood at the top of the waterfall, leaning on his knee and observing Fox. Jaw dropping, Fox recognized the animal as his father, wearing his favorite flight jacket, green cargo pants, red bandana, and signature sunglasses. Recovering after a few seconds, Fox called up to him, "Father? I-is it really you?"

James McCloud's ears perked up, and Fox expected him to answer. Instead, he turned around in slow motion to catch Marcus in his arms and swing him around, their uncontrolled laughs echoing like bells through the riverbed, an orchestra to Fox's ears. As they slowed down, James pulled Marcus into a warm hug that would have caused the snow to melt away, while patting him on the back and whispering into his ear, caringly.

Fox watched the scene, part of him glad that his father and son were together; that was how he wanted it to be. But the spectacle struck a chord in his heart that made him feel jealous and alone. His tail falling between his legs and ears drooping, Fox reluctantly turned his back on them and began trudging downstream, away from the waterfall.

"Where do you think you're going?" a quiet but commanding voice echoed through the riverbed.

Fox halted, turning around to face his father again. As he walked back to the waterfall, James put Marcus down and focused on his son below him. His father's perpetual smile turned into a frown. "Wow... just _look_ at yourself, son."

Fox was again saddened as he looked down at his blood covered body. He held out his hands, spreading his fingers and turning them one way and another to see their horrible red stains. He opened them towards his father, at a loss. "I... I'm sorry, father. I don't know what I've done... it was horrible, the faces, the screams," Fox fell to his knees and covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut at the memory that refused to leave him. Gritting his teeth and heaving with anguish, he went on. "I'll never be able to get rid of this. I can't chase the memory away, I can't forget what I've done, it will always be with me, like a stain... that nothing can wash away..."

As Fox cried his heart out, James took out his pocket knife, tossing it in his hands once or twice, only to drive it into the edge of the frozen cascade. Until then, Fox had never seen James or Marcus interact with the physical world, a thought that remained at the back of his mind.

"And the worst part is," Fox went on, "I've failed you. All my life, I've tried to live up to you. You were the bravest, the most daring, the most honest man I've ever known. You could not only take a life... you could also spare one. And that's what I remember you for. After you died, I swore to follow in your footsteps. That's why I took command of Star Fox. That's why I kept us on the narrow path, refusing to take any questionable missions. That's why I've always avoided killing when I could. That's why I took a wife, and had a son... it was all for you, dad. But now I've failed you, and my family. But there's no going back, no fixing it. I will die like this. The end. Finis."

"Fox, listen to me; just let go of it all. I know you are struggling with so much more than losing me. There are just some things you have to face. All your life, you pretended the world was a perfect little place for you to escape to. You didn't have to feel anything, you didn't have to hurt, you just had to laugh and smile and front for your friends and yourself. But this world you've created isn't working. You've seen that. It's not worth the effort you're putting into it. Life's not perfect. I wasn't perfect. Everyone makes mistakes, but you have to learn to move on. You will never live up to your ideals, son. Stop holding onto a perfect life you haven't even got." Pausing, James twisted the knife deeper into the ice. "Now, rise up, and let go." When Fox didn't move, he repeated the command. "Get up, Fox."

Reluctantly, Fox stood up, drying his eyes and facing the top of the waterfall. The sun was nearly bursting through the clouds now, like a river held by a dam, barely contained.

His father continued. "This may be the end Fox, but its also the beginning. This moment won't be easy; sometimes the hardest part of ending is the starting again part. Now let go of all the pain, let go of all the fear, let go of the fake ideals you create for yourself. Drop them as you would chains that hold you down, and rise." He twisted the knife still deeper into the ice, causing cracks to spread down the edge. "You are washed of blood, you are cleansed of poison, you are relieved of sorrow, of everything you had to be. Rise up, and let go."

Fox mimicked his father's posture, closing his eyes and spreading his arms wide. "Rise up... let go..."

James grinned. "I forgive you of your sins and welcome you unto a new life, and a new year. Make the most of what you have, son." With that, he drew the knife out, and plunged it back in again with a savage thrust. The waterfall cracked, releasing a wave of roaring, broiling water, and shards of ice that caught and reflected the morning light like stars, all falling just as the sun broke through the clouds and over the ridge in a blinding glow.

Fox caught his breath just as the wave of water and ice crashed upon him, forcing him over, bending him, breaking him, consuming him, renewing him. He let himself be washed away with the icy current, losing himself in the up and down motion of its waves as it rushed through the random curves of the stream bed.

* * *

_"__Hello?"_

Slippy gasped. It was actually Dash Bowman. He recognized the voice from the few years they spent flying together. He was talking to the man who held the universe in his hands.

"H-h-hello?" Slippy answered, already freezing up.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence on the phone.

_"__Is that you... Slippy?"_

"Yes, this is Slippy. Uh... hey, Dash. How'd you recognize me?"

_"You always answer the phone the same way, with that stutter."_

"Heh, well, it's nice to know you still remember me. Uh, so, we haven't seen each other in a long time; what's happened to you since then?"

_"__It... it hasn't been fun, Slippy. I'll say that. After Star Fox split up, it was hard to decide where to go. I tried going back to Venom, you know, starting up a new life for the lost criminals and vagabonds of the Lylat System. But it didn't work out too well." _Slippy could here the pain start to saturate Dash's voice. _"I don't like talking about it, Slip, but... if there was anyone I could talk about it with, it would be you."_

"M-me?" Slippy was completely taken aback.

_"I know you'd have a hard time believing it, Slippy, but you were the nicest to me. Everyone else was so untrusting of me, so wary of my relation to Andross. But you didn't care. Somehow, it didn't matter to you. There are two types of people in the universe, Slippy. Well, admittedly, there are billions. But I always like to split people up into to categories; those who think they should please, and those who think they should _be_ pleased. You were the kind that wanted to please, who always had to prove himself to everybody, and make them happy. That's what I've always liked you for, and that's the image you've left on me."_

"Gee, I had no idea I had such an impression. Kinda ironic, the quietest guy is remembered the most. But I would still like to know what happened to you, that made you... well..."

_"Do all this?"_ Dash finished for him. _"So it took the end of the world to make you talk to me?"_

"Well, yes. I won't lie. I know it's wrong. I know Star Fox should never have broken up. I know we should never have gone our separate was and forgotten about each other. I'm not making up excuses. I was wrong. Just, please, tell me your story."

Dash chuckled. _"It will be like the last goodnight story to the dying world, or Nero's ballad sung to the burning city. Oh, how poetic, I can't resist; I just have to – "_

"You know, you're becoming more alike," Slippy interrupted.

Dash froze. _"Like who?"_

"Like _him_."

There was a long pause of radio silence. The seconds began to draw on into minutes as neither of them spoke. Finally, Dash broke the silence.

_"The only difference between me and my grandfather is that he bothered with the world in the first place. I will not... I know it's hard... I wish there was some way I could make you see... __Here, it's about time I told you what happened. It's pretty simple. I returned to Venom, trying to create a place for all of the outcasts and the dregs of the universe. It wasn't easy. Terraforming Venom is something I'm sure Andross couldn't even pull off. It's much easier to destroy than to create. Even now, it looks like the project __wa__s off to a bad start. Then I had to gather all of the lost races. I searched __for them in__ the dark corners of the System. I lifted them out of the hidden sewers and alleys of the city. I fought long and tedious court cases to get them freed from prison, intent on giving every, single, one of them a second chance. __But every step of the way, Corneria was in my face, intent on keeping the reptile__s__ and the primates and the outcasts forever separated, without a cause, without a pride, without a home. And I fought them," _Dash's voice began to tremble with barely contained anger. _"I thought them to my skin and bone. No matter what they did to stop me, no matter how many obstacles they put in my path, no matter how many lies they fed the people, I pushed on. I had finally amassed a sizable country on Venom, when it happened. You must remember it, Slippy; the Macbeth Crisis?"_

"Yeah," Slippy breathed out, "Venom rose up once again, for one last hurrah, one last strike against the rest of the Lylat System. They fired upon a factory network on Macbeth, with nukes... it was all over the news."

_"Would you believe me if I told you It wasn't my fault? If I told you that I didn't fire the interplanetary missiles?"_

"Of course, you can't control what your people do."

_"And that it wasn't even the people of Venom who fired the missiles?"_

Slippy was confused. "What? Then, who was it?"

_"Corneria always gets what it wants, Slippy, one way or another. They disguised as radicals, took over city blocks, protested in every street, all in the name of Venom. We didn't even posses nuclear warheads. But after so many wars from the same people, no one would believe us. Corneria came in, and banished us from Venom, and de__cimated__ every single city on Venom. I was able to escape to a hidden bunker of Andross's, with a choice few of my friends and officials, and we've hidden there ever since. That is where we discovered Andross's most powerful weapon, one that even he would never dare to use. Do you understand it now, Slippy? Can you really blame me? There is no hope for me or for anyone."_

There was a distinctive _click _that sounded over the connection.

Dash froze, tensing up. _"Oh don't tell me. It was all a set up, wasn't it? They hired you to talk to me so you could find my location?"_

"No, Dash, I didn't know!" Slippy hopped down off of the table and rushed over to the door, finding it curiously unlocked. Opening it, he looked around to find Bill Goats completely gone, and a single, blue phone in the middle of his desk. _It was a set up..._

_"I can't believe you, Slippy! Even __someone like __you would stoop to this. So it was all fake?"_

"Please, Dash!" Slippy pleaded with him. "I had no idea! They lied to me! I just wanted to talk!"

_"__No one in their right mind would call the one person who held the world in their hands just to "__talk!"__"_

Slippy was beginning to get frustrated; the inability to get anywhere with Dash was annoying him. "Look, I admit I called you to talk you out of dropping the world, but it was purely diplomatic! It was no trick!"

The outburst seemed to silence Dash for a moment. _"Then you really mean it... I've never seen you get this angry before unless it was about something sincere."_

"Of course I mean it!" Slippy shot back, seething.

Slippy could hear Dash's breathing slow down, and he noticed his own lungs were relaxing as well.

_ "Please, accept my apology,"_ Dash said.

Slippy let out a long breath as he felt the tension in the room fade. "Sure. Of course."

_"But, please, let's get our mind off of the current... _situation_. I need to talk about something else. Can you agree to that?"_

Slippy's conscience began to nag him, urging him on to argue with Dash and convince him to save the world... but something told him to forget about it. "Right, no more diplomacy, no more business.. From now on, it's just two friends talking after years of not seeing each other."

_"Thank you, Slip. I really needed this. Well, I've caught you up on my story. Where have you been since Star Fox?"_

Slippy let himself relax as he continued the conversation with Dash. He walked back into the private room, closing the door behind him. Sitting back down on the desk, he said, "Let me see... after it all fell to pieces, I wanted to take up another job in technology. I could have gone back to Space Dynamics... but..."

_"You couldn't face your father?" _

"Exactly. So, I took the next best thing; a job at the Advanced Weapons Guilds."

A hint of genuine interest seemed to animate Dash's voice. _"The AWG? I'm sure you know Andross use to work there. He basically founded the company with all of his inventions and research."_

"Of course! Besides it being one of the largest tech manufacturing companies in the System, I would have to say its connections with Andross drew me to it the most. All of the work we've reverse-engineered of his has already set Lylat years ahead to the future."

_"Have you ever worked with any of his tech hands on? I've gotten to use a lot of it where I've __been __hid__ing__ over the past few years."_

"Recently I've gotten to work with some. Quite fascinating, really. So you've worked with some, too?"

_"Well, admittedly, my scientists __did most of the work. I'm no technician, nor a scientist. But I still can appreciate Andross's work."_

"I should think so! It's hard to imagine the raw power that could cause a star to go supernova! How did Andross do it? And how was he able to even get to the stars?"

_"__It's quite complicated, but I'll take a crack at it. It revolves around Andross's new theory of gravity. Space, what we commonly think of as nothing, or the three spacial dimensions, is actually a physical field with its own properties. Among these is how it interacts with matter. Normal matter, the stuff we and planets are made of, slowly suck in space like a vacuum cleaner. We call this effect gravity. Dark matter, the kind that exists between galaxies and solar systems, actually spits out space. This is what we call anti-matter, that makes things float simply by spitting out enough space to match the intake space of a planet's gravity. With enough dark matter, you could propel yourself from any direction simply by placing more space in between yourself and that direction. With the right amounts of matter and dark matter, you could play around with space in many different ways. Andross faced two problems. One, how to blow up a star; and two, how to get whatever mechanism he needed _to_ said star. The three closest stars are, on average, six light years away from the Lylat System. Andross's space model allows him to actually bend space in many different ways. The rockets he sent to the three stars all were manipulating space; their noses used matter to eat up space in front of them, pulling them forward, and their tales used dark matter to emit space and push them forwards."_

"But how did he do it? Did he just slap a blob of dark matter on the tail and a blob of normal matter on the front?"

_"__Well... in a way... yes. He developed extremely dense molecules of both matter and dark matter, froze them to nearly zero degrees kelvin, and _then_ he slapped them onto the rockets. Yes, there is a lot more to it than that, but you get the point. The rockets literally remained motionless while space flowed around them. In that way, they were able to travel __nearly__ the speed of light, without actually traveling the speed of light. __Understand?__"_

"I think I get it... yeah, I do."

_"__Great, because no one else does. Anyway, that is how Andross was able to get the device to the stars so quickly."_

"Then how did he blow up the stars when the rockets got there?"

_"__Strangely, screwing around with space solves the problem again. One of the leading causes for core collapse and subsequent supernova is the abrupt halting of nuclear fusion. Andross manipulated space so that he cut off the star's supply of hydrogen from it's core, making it impossible for nuclear fusion. __He did this by expanding the space in between the core and the outer shell. __The core collapses, and disperses all of the excess hydrogen on its outside in the form of a supernova."_

"And Andross never was able to put his plan into action because of the Lylat Wars?"

_"__Well... not exactly. Andross did explode __those __three stars __in the spectacular display you saw earlier this evening__. You see, he discovered all of this while in the middle of the Lylat Wars. His plan was to force the world into submission by threatening to blow it up if they didn't obey him. However, no one would believe him if he did not first prove that it was in his power __to do so__. __H__e built the rockets and sent them off to those three stars, hoping that he could hold out against the rest of the Lylat until they finally reached their marks."_

"And that day was... today..."

_"__Yes, Andross didn't win the war, or hold out long enough 'til he could prove his power. I took the opportunity to cash in on my grandfather's work. The stars were expertly timed to blow on the same day, which happened to be New Year's Eve. Perhaps Andross meant it as a cruel joke. It _was_ his greatest sense of humor, __after all..__."_

Neither of them spoke for awhile, as Slippy took time to process the data. He stared out Corneria City, knowing it would simply cease to exist in a matter of minutes.

"Have you started it yet?" Slippy suddenly asked Dash.

_"__Started what?"_

"The end of the world. Have you launched the rocket yet?"

Dash paused, causing more silence to ensue.

_"__No."_

_Then there was still hope, _Slippy thought. Jumping off the table, he began quickly pacing back and forth. His mind began racing, much as it did whenever he began to figure out a complicated math problem, or when he found the bug in a piece of machinery and began repairing it. It had always been the best feeling in Slippy's life, the reason he existed.

"You don't have to go through with it, you know."

Dash sighed, already knowing where the conversation would go. _"Slippy, I have to do this."_

"Why?"

_"__You have to understand, I'm not doing this for myself, because I hate the world, or anything like that. I'm doing it for all of the Lylat System. There's no fixing the wrong in the world. Every day we spend alive, we compound evil upon evil, sin upon sin. All of our evil is just piling up, like debt to a foreign country, or a hospital bill. There's no way we can change the evil in the world. The only solution is to put it out of it's misery. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Isn't that how the saying goes? Isn't that what our mothers have always told us? If you can't do anything good..." _He left the statement open for Slippy to finish himself.

"So that's it? You're just giving up on the world?"

_"__There is a point when everything _becomes_ pointless, Slip."_

Slippy finally stopped pacing. He was right up in front of the window, glaring at his own dim reflection in the dark glass. "I don't believe you. You would be the last person I would expect to give up! You've seen firsthand how giving up has turned out! Fox threw his hands up in the air when Marcus died and Krystal left him. They gave up, and look how it turned out. Falco and Katt left the team after trying to keep it together and deal with a maddened Fox. Now there _is_ no more Star Fox. I gave up working out the misunderstandings between me and my dad, and I haven't spoken to him in four years. Giving up is no solution."

_"__If there was any possible way I could change the world, I would. __Admit it, Slippy, there is no other way out."_

"How can you take away the world from so many people? How can you kill billions of animals? The adults and the infants, the healthy and the sick, the rich and the poor, the guilty and the innocent?"

_"I can't help who dies, but I can help everyone through death. The world's evil will always outweigh its good."_

"But who are you to weigh the good and evil of the world? Are you the world's Jury?"

_"__Anyone with a functioning eye in his head could plainly see the world's evil outweighs – "_

"Who are you to decide the sentence of the world? Are you its Judge?"

_"__I am a victim of the world just like anyone – "_

"Who are you to exact punishment on the world? Are you its Executioner?"

_"__Well __s__ome fool has got to – "_

"Who are you that the earth is yours to destroy? Are you its Maker?

_"Slippy, would you shut up and listen to me!?"_

"Are you God?"

_"__It doesn't take a god to – "_

"Are you Andross?"

* * *

Katt audibly gulped as a blood-hound guard opened the door in front of her, gesturing for her to enter. Hesitantly stepping in, she looked around the small room's interior. The prison's visiting room was not what she was expecting it to be. Katt had always seen them depicted as dark, dingy rooms with rows of stations for meeting, a long glass wall for viewing, cheap telephones, and guards with machine guns posted at every door. Instead, she found a small, neat room split by a glowing force field that cut it in half, and two chairs that faced each other on either side. But the atmosphere was just as cold and unforgiving as expected. When she had fully entered, the guard behind her silently excused himself and left her alone with the occupant in the other side of the room.

Katt nervously seated herself in the steal chair on her half of the room, resting her forearms on the cold, metal armrests that froze her limbs. Her eyes darted back and force across the room, trying to find anything else to look at, instead of the person seated in the chair opposite her. Finally, she bit her lip and looked through the force field at the prisoner. Katt had been avoiding him for far too long.

Falco Lombardi, dressed in gray prison fatigues, sat opposite her, slouching in his chair.

"Falco..." Katt trailed off, not knowing where to begin.

The blue falcon remained silent, refusing to even look at her with his head facing downward.

"Look, Falco... I'm sorry."

He did completely nothing, as if he wanted more from her.

"I'm sorry for what happened... It's my fault you're in here... I got you roped into the Hot Rodders after the team fell apart, knowing the work they did wasn't strictly..."

"Legal," Falco finished for her.

"Yeah," Katt agreed, sniffing.

Falco coughed. "That wasn't your fault. I knew the risk. I took it. I ended up here, and you didn't. Hard facts of life."

Katt continued, "But when the job went wrong, and we all had to run for it, I chose _him_... Kit Kool... over you. When caught, we betrayed you to get off with an easier sentence."

Laughing bitterly, Falco replied, "What? You don't think I know all this?" He leaned back and swung his arms in a sweeping gesture to indicate the prison. "Wouldn't this be a pretty strong indicator that I was sold out? Now tell me something I don't know or leave me alone." With that, he stood up from his chair and turned towards the door.

Katt jumped out of her chair and rushed over to the field. "Wait! Falco, after we got out, I-I never saw Kit again... I promise. I left him for good. I had some time to think in prison, and realized I didn't care about him."

Falco stopped in front of the door and looked back over his shoulder. "However much time you had to think, I had longer. I've been locked up in this jail like a rooster in a chicken coop for far too long, longer than an 'I'm sorry' or an 'I love you' or any of that crud can make up for. What's done is done, Katt, and we can't change that... for the rest of our lives. We can't change it. Nothing will."

Katt glanced down at her watch, a tear dropping from her eye and smudging the glass. 22:08, only two hours left before midnight. Looking back up she said, "Falco, honestly, we can't avoid this anymore. If you haven't heard, the world is ending in a few hours, and I don't – "

Suddenly, Falco whirled around, grabbed the metal chair, and flung it straight at Katt. The force field deflected the chair, but Katt stumbled backwards out of instinct. In a moment, Falco was upon the force field, shouting at her in a mad rage. "WHAT DOES ANYONE CARE!? YOU THINK PEOPLE _WANT_ THE WORLD TO GO ON!? THE UNIVERSE IS JUST A BUNCH OF MUDBALLS SPINNING AIMLESSLY ABOUT, AND WE HAPPEN TO BE ON THEM. YOU KNOW _WHY_ PEOPLE DON'T CARE? PEOPLE STOP CARING WHEN THEY CAN'T CHANGE SOMETHING. THEY CAN'T CHANGE THE END OF THE WORLD, THEN THEY DON'T CARE. THEY CAN'T CHANGE A POLITICAL SYSTEM, THEN THEY DON'T CARE. I CAN'T FIX A RELATIONSHIP, THEN _I DON'T CARE!_" He slammed his head violently against the force field, then buried it in his wings as his body shook with silent sobs.

Katt waited a few seconds, watching the sad display of Falco's insecurity, then hesitantly approached the field once again. Laying her paws on it, she leaned in close to where Falco was pressing himself against it. "Shhh... Falco, calm down. Just wait. Everything will be okay. You just have to hold on, and don't lose control. Listen... can you do me a favor?"

Falco took his head out of his wings and looked up at her, sniffing. "What?"

"Promise me you'll stay with me all the way... until the end... until midnight. I don't want the world to end like this... after an argument, after a fight, all alone... do you?"

Falco pressed his hands against the field where Katt's hands were, coming the closest to touching as he could. His fit subsided as he looked back at her remorseful face and met her eyes. "No. I don't want this. I don't want any of it. But I still want you... I'm sorry, Katt, that it had to be this way. I know I'm an idiot sometimes... maybe all the time. I can't control myself... there's nothing I can do..."

"I don't care, Falco..." Katt whispered. "I'll take you however you are. Nothing matters to me anymore except you. Take everything else away, take the world away, and I still have you."

They closed their eyes as they pressed their heads against the field, Katt softly crying.

"You won't leave me, will you?" Katt asked.

"Never."

At that moment, the force field abruptly disappeared, uniting them once again. They fell towards each other, and Falco caught Katt in his arms, as they released their tears of joy. Sliding down to the floor, Falco rocked her back and forth as Katt lost herself in his comforting arms.

Behind her, Katt heard the door open again, as well as the footsteps of the guard entering.

"Look, you two, I don't know how to say this, but... you're free to go. I just don't give a dang anymore, and I'm sure no one else does. Now get out while you're still alive."

As he watched the reunited Falco and Katt leave the room, the bloodhound mumbled, "Well, I guess that Bowman fella knew what he was doin'."

* * *

** A/N: Thanks to Qui Ludicant for pointing out all of science I failed to explain, and all of the science I got wrong in the first version of Minutes to Midnight. One of the things he wanted to see more of in this story was the mechanics behind Dash's evil little plan. The giant conversation between Slippy and Dash is dedicated to you, Qui Ludicant. I am expecting another scientific slap-down, though. Oh, and I made up all of the stuff about gravity. Einstein would probably kill me if he ever found out.**


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